“What? But the Wraiths. Waleron have you even considered that you’re too late?” A part of her wanted to leap into his arms and hold him to her with the feeling of elation wrapping around her soul. The other part of her wanted to crush his windpipe with her bare hands. Why? Why now? Damn it, why?
His words must have a motive. If she fell into Waleron’s arms again, he’d throw her away as soon as Xamien was out of the picture. When he was concerned about her and Edan, hadn’t he said he’d try? This was another ploy to keep her from another man’s bed.
She pulled out of his arms and this time he let her. She took several steps away and heard his deep breathing as if he was about to say something more, but stopped himself.
“And the pills?” Her body was yearning to ravage him, pull him to her and make him swear to never hurt her again. To make him love her as he once did with every part of his heart and soul. But could she trust him?
“The pills stay, Delara.”
Why was her mind contemplating letting him back in? After all he’d done to her. The denial. The hurt. The manipulation. The control. And now, her choice was being taken away. She couldn’t let him back in.
Her debate was the same; he’d already hurt her. Why didn’t she listen to her own argument? Because Waleron was the first man she’d ever loved and letting go had been her failure for a century and a half. She hurt when he died. She nearly died herself, thinking he had left her behind to face the world without him. His return only caused more destruction. He was like a parasite eating away at her insides. Why did she torture herself this way? Why should she trust him to not hurt her this time? Why was this time different?
He came up behind her and drew her into his arms. Her knees trembled and she leaned into his protective embrace. It was like he was her savior and ruin all wrapped into one.
“We will try to find a way, Maitagarri. I cannot…Maitagarri, I cannot lose you.”
Waleron’s whispered words sent a warning beacon off in her head. That word try. Could she trust him? What did her heart want? For so long she loved him, needed him like her next breath…but it was too late.
Even if the Wraiths weren’t involved she couldn’t risk the chance of trying and having Waleron walk away again. It would crush her. There was no survival after try.
So she did what she knew had to be done. She pulled from his arms and faced him. She met his eyes, her trembling body, holding upright only by pure adrenaline as sorrow drowned her soul. She barely whispered, “No, Waleron.”
His jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed and the snake’s eyes began to glow a deep red. Don’t back down. Whether this was right or not, she couldn’t fall down the same path. Maybe the Wraiths were right. This was about ending the tortured love between them. Their relationship was only words that always led to hurt.
“Delara.”
“No Pez. I can’t do this.”
“Delara…please.” He wore that wounded expression that made her want to run into his arms and soothe it. But she knew as soon as she gave in to him, he’d end up leaving her anyway. She realized that she no longer trusted him. He’d broken that when he’d walked out on her the night Rayne was conceived. It was reiterated when he made the bargain with Trinity and then again when he`d asked Delara to leave the Talde after he found out she`d carried their child and failed to tell him.
“I don`t trust you Waleron.”
His body jerked and she noticed his expression change to stone cold.
“And I won’t beg, Delara.” He turned abruptly on his heel. “Five minutes then we Trace to Spain. Get your shit together. Your bag’s still in the car. You’ll need another one.”
She blinked at his use of the swear word. That hurt, but this is what she wanted. To make certain he kept his Taldeburu and to end their painful love. “Waleron—” He hadn’t waited. He was gone.
It took her a few minutes before she could move. She swore Waleron still loved her; the way he touched her, how he protected her… That couldn’t be just from his oath, could it?
She walked out the front door, her head pounding with confusion as she sat on the steps and breathed in the cool air. Waleron would be pissed to find her outside unprotected, but right now she had to breathe. To feel the air on her skin. She was wrapped up in so much grief that her stomach was rolling with uneasiness and her hands were sweating.
Waleron needed her to trust him. How could she after he broke her heart? How could she fall back into his arms when he refused to share himself? How could she trust him when he didn’t trust her? He refused to talk about the Lilac. All he told her about his Scar was that it was filled with darkness, whatever that meant.
“You okay, Kitten?”
She held her head in her hands and her body was trembling, whether it was from the cold or from the emotions, she didn’t know. Probably both. “I...I think I just need to be alone.”
“You’re upset. You know what happens when you’re upset.”
“Xamien, not now.” The last time he’d striped her naked, tied her to his bedpost, then used a spatula to spread melted hot chocolate all over her body. Then he proceeded to lick it off, even brought strawberries to dip into it. It had been hours of sheer torture, but he made her forget whatever she’d been upset about.
The front door opened and, without looking, she knew it was him. He placed his hands on her shoulders then felt him crouch down behind her. “Waleron said we’re leaving now,” he said while massaging gently.
“Yeah.”
“You know you are always welcome in my Talde,” Xamien said. He squeezed her arms. “And I don’t mean just for now, Delara. Whether we stay lovers or just friends, I want you to know that you will always be welcome.”
Her eyes filled with tears and she went to turn around and hug him when Damien appeared. He must have been standing around the corner and masking his scent. And no doubt heard every word they spoke. She wondered if Xamien had known he was there all along.
“Damien,” Xamien addressed him then stood. “I’ll be back.” “He wants to talk to you alone. I’ll tell Waleron you’re….in the washroom.”
“Thanks Xamien. You’re a good friend. You know that?”
“Yep. I do, Kitten.”
Damien approached, stopping to lean up against the one pillar at the bottom of the steps. It appeared casual and relaxed, but she smelled the inner rage leaking from his pores. It gave off a distinct odor of sweat and burning iron. His eyes remained steady on her and for a second she remembered the man he once was, before Abby. The virgin-king, the women-hater, the diabolical vamp hunter. Now, what was left was a man filled with remorse and hatred. After Abby volunteered for execution, Damien’s hooded eyes had returned and the grief hung over him like a heavy wool blanket.
“I hate both men that love you.” When Delara went to refute his statement, Damien glared so fiercely that she closed her mouth. “Waleron killed the only woman I will ever love and Xamien is an arrogant ass that deserves to rot in hell.”
Well, it was nice to know Damien didn’t like her choice in men—not.
She really had no intention of listening to his shit at the moment. She was halfway to her feet when he grabbed her arm. She tried to pull away, but his bruising fingers dug into her skin and he forced her to stand in front of him.
“You protected Abby, for that I’m in your debt.”
She had to look away, afraid he’d see the truth in her eyes. God, she wanted to tell him. She hated knowing Abby lived and Damien was tortured believing she was dead—executed by Waleron. But Abby had made this decision. She never wanted Damien to know she was alive. He was known for being one of the greatest vamp hunters and she was now one of them—a vamp for Damien to kill.
“Don’t let him go. Don’t give up on him.”
Delara wanted to slap him across the face. What the hell did he know? He knew nothing about her and Waleron’s relationship or lack thereof. Most of the time Damien had lived as a solitary in Florida. He only came back when he
helped with the Ryzard incident and then when he had to look after Abby during her Transition.
Delara yanked on her arm, but he held tight. “Let me go, Damien.”
A haunted look crept across his face and his next words were filled with so much anguish that any animosity she’d just had suddenly diminished. His hand released her and his voice grew quiet. “Abby. She gave up on me. She didn’t believe I could love her after she Turned. She was afraid she’d hurt me.” His voice became deeper, husky with a menacing tone. “Don’t let him decide for both of you. Don’t let anyone decide.”
The door opened and Jedrik stood on the threshold. He must have used his visionary skills and seen them through the door.
“You okay, Sass?” Jedrik said the words to her, but was looking at Damien.
Damien never looked away from Delara. He grinded his teeth and she heard the crackling of his knuckles as he clenched his hands into fists. “I’d have become my own worst enemy for her,” Damien said. He abruptly turned on his heel and strode out into the garden.
Damien would have become a vamp for her and Abby gave up on him. Because she didn’t trust herself not to hurt him.
Oh god. Waleron. What happened to us? What have we done? Damien’s words rang through Delara like a church bell.
Waleron was afraid he’d hurt her. He gave up on them, because he didn’t trust himself any longer. But she’d given up on them too. The trust had been eaten alive by their fear of hurting one another.
But she kept holding on. All these years, an ember of hope still burned in her heart. It was Waleron. She couldn’t live without him. There was something in the way he held her in his arms, the way his fingers curled in her hair, how his eyes looked at her and actually saw what’s inside. When he walked, when he stood, god it was just something in him.
But how could she convince him to hold onto them when he refused to feel? When he kept numbing his emotions? Balen said he’d never let Danielle go, no matter what. But to fight the Wraiths? To risk Waleron’s Taldeburu? How could she do that? What if she failed?
She was afraid to let him in, but wasn’t she drowning without him? Wasn’t he worth the risk? She fought the Wraiths for Balen’s life. Why did she hesitate to fight for the man she loved?
She loved Waleron. Nothing would ever change that.
“Sass?” Jedrik put his arm around her waist. He pushed a strand of hair aside and tucked it behind her ear.
A stray tear slipped from her eye and slid down her cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb. “I’ve been suffocating for so long. I thought it was…I thought it was because he overprotected me, but—” Delara inhaled sharply and held back the sobs that threatened to fall at her next words, “but it’s because I can’t breathe without him.”
Chapter 10
Waleron came up behind Delara out on the front doorstep, nodded to Jedrik then took her hand. She was about to ask him to wait so she could talk to him, but he Traced them before she could say anything.
She found herself in Xamien’s front courtyard—alone. Waleron was already gone. She took out her cell and tried to call him, but it went straight to voicemail. There was no point leaving a message; she didn’t even know what she was going to say, just that she needed to talk to him. Damien’s words were still steamrolling her and she needed this. Both of them did.
Xamien’s house, or rather Xamien’s medieval castle, was a place Delara always felt she could escape to. It sat on a hill overlooking a river. The massive stone structure had four towers and a courtyard out of a fairytale book. Wild flowers were scattered across the yard, lining a pebbled path that led around to the side of the house. Steps led up to the entrance that had arched double doors made of solid wood with lit sconces on either side.
Xamien appeared beside her. “He left?”
Delara nodded.
Xamien was silent for several seconds. She knew he could feel her conflict; he was a Reflection. “Tomorrow I want to take you somewhere. It’s remarkable this time of year.” He touched her arm. “Delara. We’ve been friends a long time. That will never change, Kitten. So don’t shut me out.”
No, Xamien didn’t deserve that. “You’ve always been there for me, Xamien. When I needed you…you understood. I won’t ever forget that. You’re an amazing man.” She half-smiled. “But don’t let that go to your head, okay?”
Xamien nodded then dug into his pocket and took out his phone. He pressed a few times on the screen, and handed it to her. “He sent this to me when you were talking to Damien.”
It was a text message from Waleron:
Tracing her to Spain then I will be unreachable for several hours. I trust you can protect her. But touch her and you initiate war.
Delara returned his phone, and noticed her hand was shaking. Xamien steadied it. “I know something has changed between us, but I’d like to hear it from you.”
“Xamien I—”
“Sir! Sir!” Glunk came running down the stone steps shouting. He was a husky, short man who often wore soccer—aka football—shirts. He also had this odd affection for a pair of checkered yellow, blue, and red running shoes.
Xamien stepped forward.
“Sir,” Glunk called. He rushed a bow in greeting to Delara then turned to Xamien. “Sir, it’s Abby. She—Max went to give her the usual bag of blood and Abby attacked her.” Xamien was already running towards the house and Glunk ran after him. Delara followed. “Sir, Jasper is trying to subdue her. I told him he couldn’t kill her. He wasn’t pleased, sir.”
“How long?” Xamien shouted as they barged into the massive stone foyer. The chandelier hanging two stories above swayed at the sudden impact of the front doors meeting the stone walls behind them.
“Fifteen minutes maybe.”
Delara ran after Xamien down a hallway, through the kitchen, and then up the long set of spiraling stairs that led to Abby’s room.
Xamien inserted a key into the old iron lock, then yanked open the door and strode inside.
Delara went to follow when Glunk stopped her. “No miss. It’s not a good idea. She’s in a state I’ve never seen before.”
There was a big-screen TV on the back wall and a black leather couch with lime green and white throw pillows in the middle of the room. She’d sat on the couch last time she was here and watched a movie with Abby. The witch-vamp had hardly spoken.
Abby’s hissing screech came from around the corner and Delara darted past Glunk. She halted as she reached the wide living room with one wall made completely of floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows. In the middle of the room was a white carpet with a blotch of red, and on it was Max bunched in a ball on the floor, her hands covering her neck and blood dripping between her fingers.
“Abby, Christ!” Xamien stood several feet away, Abby was blocking his path to the girl. “What are you doing? It’s Max. Jesus.”
A scarier than hell guy stood on the opposite side of the room with freshfingernail scratches down the side of his face. He had tribal tattoos running the length of his arms and, emphasizing his hard-ass biker look, he wore ripped jeans and a black T-shirt with skulls on it. Both fit snug, which showed off his lean-muscled body. He communicated with all in the room except Abby. “Vamp in the house? Not cool. Heard she’d been executed.”
“Nope,” Xamien responded.
“Damn. Another pet.”
“Pet?” Delara asked. “Never mind, I don’t want to know. Who is he?”
“Jasper. Mercenary. Assassin. Friend. Rogue Senses. I asked him to come and stay while you’re here.”
Jasper gestured to Max with a jerk of his chin. “Chick raised by vamps?”
Xamien nodded.
“Damn! Finally get to meet her. Babe disappears every time I show up here.”
“You’ve been here three times, Jasper. And she doesn’t like people.”
Abby snarled at Jasper, her pointed fangs flashing. There was still blood on her lips from biting Max. God, poor Abby. She had no control over who she was anymo
re.
Delara watched as Abby guarded her prey like a wild animal. Circling Max, eyes watching the men for any movement. Delara sidled to the right against the wall then dropped down to her hands and feet.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Xamien asked while keeping his eyes on Abby.
“Helping Max, while you guys distract her,” Delara replied. “Jasper, can you get her to turn towards you?”
“No heroics, Jasper. We don’t need anyone getting hurt,” Xamien said. “Kitten, be careful. I’m uncertain what’s happening with Abby. This isn’t like her.”
“Hey witch-vamp, you remember Damien?” The moment Jasper mentioned Damien, Abbywhirled around to face him. “Well, that worked rather nicely.”
Xamien rolled his eyes heavenward and Delara swore beneath her breath.
“Damien thinks she’s dead? Yeah?” Jasper asked.
“I said distraction, not a memory that might send her into a wild frenzy!”
“Wild frenzy sounds good to me.”
Xamien grunted. “Masochist.”
Jasper shrugged.
Delara crawled across the floor, the scent of blood was overpowering as she made her way towards Max. She didn’t know the woman very well—like Jasper said, Max kept to herself when anyone came to the house. From what Xamien had told her, Max was raised in a horde of vamps who abused her for years. Max was also a Senses, although there was no indication as to what kind.
Xamien took a few steps closer. “Keep talking to her, Jasper.”
“Trying something. Back off. Speaking with that telepath, Danielle.”
Danielle was one of the few who could speak telepathically from a great distance. She’d been given the gift when she was changed into a Senses at the Stream of Hell in Zugarramurdi a couple years ago. No doubt she wasn’t considering it a gift right now, speaking to Jasper.
“Seriously? What for? Does he know Danielle?” Delara paused in her movement as Abby sniffed the air and hissed.
Xamien was scowling. “No, he doesn’t. Jasper, what the hell are you doing?”
FALL (The Senses) Page 18
